


Hostage To Symphony

by AmelieofK



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, WIP, junbob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27695156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmelieofK/pseuds/AmelieofK
Summary: One winter's solstice, two divergent souls collide in a fateful twist of events that would change their destiny
Relationships: Goo Junhoe/Kim Jiwon | Bobby
Comments: 15
Kudos: 28





	1. Heartbreak In Arpeggio

**Author's Note:**

> ‼️TW for suicide/self harm : A character attempts suicide in this chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A betrayal. An escape. A means to an end. Some decisions are hard to make but Junhoe was certain, his would cause no ripple at all in the scheme of life. Fate was about to change that for him.

Perhaps Yunhyeong had been right. Being out of the city was probably all he needed to do. It was better than being alone in that apartment where every nook and corner only served to remind him of the memories he had with Jinhwan. Junhoe shook his head as he turned into the side road, trying to clear his mind of that name.

How does one clear a name from one’s memory when all one’s lips had invoked for the past two years had only been that same name?

The gravel crunching under the wheels of the Jeep was just the distraction he needed as Junhoe cruised down the short driveway which led to the cabin. It was as glamourous and idyllic as Yunhyeong had described, but it still looked cosy; an earthbound structure of mostly wood, glass and stones. Yunhyeong had told Junhoe that his great grandfather had been an architect, who had designed and built it himself.

“He was into all things American and he modelled it after the log cabins you would find in the American frontier. Very isolated and peaceful.” Yunhyeong had declared with pride. Junhoe saw that Yunhyeong was not lying at all. Granite stones cemented to the wood base provided solid foundation to the brown, sturdy logs which ran up horizontally to form a two-storey structure which looked as if it can survive the harshest winter. Yunhyeong had warned him to pack up and prepare for cold weather anyway. “Everything’s been cleaned and dusted off and I’ve told the caretaker to stock up the woodpile, groceries and other necessities for you. He won’t be able to stay for you though. His daughter is giving birth this winter so he and his wife will be in the city for the next few months.” Yunhyeong had added in warning, which to Junhoe made everything else he had planned fall smoothly into place.

Junhoe turned off the engine and sat behind the driver’s wheel realising that he was doing Yunhyeong such a disservice with all the things he had planned for the winter’s solstice but he was in no mood to celebrate anything. Not after he caught Jinhwan on their bed with that new violinist who had joined the string section. That guy who trained in Russia, Kim Donghyuk. Junhoe should have known that all the bantering happening in front of his eyes and his own hunch which he had, at first, dismissed as irrational jealousy, had become true, after all.

He barely recalled the nightmarish sequence of events which happened after; Jinhwan running after him, dressed in nothing, but the covers of the sheets they had bought together when their love had still been fresh and new. He had stopped, realising this was his apartment. Then, Jinhwan trying to explain. He had stood in the living room asking tersely for the both of them to leave. Jinhwan crying profusely, guilt plastered all over his face, but it was not Junhoe who was comforting him.

“How long?” Junhoe had demanded as Jinhwan began walking out towards the door. The both of them had turned back, their eyes furtive and not daring to look at Junhoe at all.

“Wh-“ Jinhwan began in puzzlement.

“How long has this been going on under my nose?!” Junhoe almost yelled. It was horrifying, but it was as if every time he glanced at Jinhwan, the sense of betrayal inside him seem to just keep swelling up to the point that he had barely anything else left within him other than agony.

“Jun-“Jinhwan began to speak between sobs. Junhoe turned his face away.

“You know what? I don’t care. Just get the fuck out of my life.” Junhoe had interred.

It was only later. Later, when the silence had begun to seep in, when the pain had no place else to go that Junhoe, who had his back to the door, finally slid down to the floor, crumbling into tears. Not that Jinhwan was coming back, anyway. He had placed his keys on the side table by the wall of the entrance’s doorway. They had both picked up the table from the store when they had been looking for furniture for the apartment.

Everything he did the day after became laborious and painful. Just walking in to practice, pretending as if nothing happened felt as if he was dragging a chain and ball on his feet. He knew everyone’s eyes was on him, because it was obvious that the ‘golden couple’ of the orchestra, were no longer together, especially now since one of them had been seen walking into practice with the new guy.

“I perfectly understand if you need to take a break.” Hanbin had stated immediately after requesting Junhoe for a moment so they could have a talk in private. As the director of the orchestra, he knew about the gossip which had been going around the team the past week and of course, his partner, Yunhyeong, who remained Junhoe’s closest senior and friend from college, had promptly filled him in the very night it happened.

“Yunhyeong put you up to it, didn’t he?” Junhoe had quickly conjectured, sighing aloud as he settled back onto the chair across from Hanbin's desk.

“I would have asked even if he hadn't. A heartbreak is not something one can simply push aside and forget overnight.” Hanbin had whispered softly. He had the pleasure of working with talents like Junhoe for the past few years.

In those fruitful years, he had also met the love of his life, married him and recently celebrated his own promotion as director to the orchestra. It was having people like Junhoe around him which had made his job all the more easier. Even before he joined the orchestra as its lead cellist, Junhoe had carved a prolific solo career; playing the London Philharmonic and the Vienna orchestra as a prodigy before he settled back in South Korea and joining their team. His presence had added prestige and fame to their orchestra. It had also brought undue attention to Junhoe, who had pretty much lived under the cloistered company of his family and closest friends. Suddenly, his social circle had widened and he began to discover more about relationships, most especially about matters of the heart.

Hanbin had always thought that Junhoe’s life had been pretty sheltered. His family had money and he had never lived a hard life. When he fell in love and decided to have Jinhwan live with him, Yunhyeong had professed his worry over it to Hanbin. It was a journey he had to take, Hanbin had explained and while the both of them had hoped for the best, perhaps fate had deemed for it to be otherwise.

It was probably a fortnight after Jinhwan’s betrayal that Yunhyeong had received a text from Junhoe. He had been having dinner with Hanbin when his phone chimed. He made it a point not to look at his phone while eating, but today was an exception. Hanbin had told him that he caught Jinhwan and Donghyuk doing more than orchestral practice in the men’s room and he was sure he had seen Junhoe just emerging from there, just as he was about to make his way towards it. Yunhyeong had sent a text just hours before dinner asking how Junhoe was faring and he was waiting, still wanting for a reply.

‘Goodbye’ had been the reply.

Yunhyeong had dropped his fork, gazing at Hanbin with this frozen look of horror plastered across his pale face. Hanbin blinked, asking him what was wrong and then he was rushing out of there, followed by a harried Hanbin right behind him.They arrived at Junhoe’s apartment, both knocking at the door urgently, hearts beating with anxiety waiting for him to answer. Yunhyeong was about to call the locksmith services when the door flew open and Junhoe stood there, looking like God's worst creation.

He had been drinking, dressed only in a bathrobe and he was in tears. Yunhyeong had caught him as he tripped forward, the contents of the bottle in his hand spilling out onto the floor.

“ _Hyung_ …” He slurred, a wistful smile across his lips at the sight of Yunhyeong. “I…I thought you were him.” Junhoe had whispered, loud enough for Hanbin to hear the desperation in his voice as well. The fact that Junhoe look so guttered was enough for the two of them to decide that he take a sabbatical from the orchestra.

Of course, Junhoe protested but by then, it was too late. After a flurry of vomiting in the bathroom coupled with the hangover soup Yunhyeong had cooked and brought for him, a day later, he was ordered to pack and take a leave of absence by a Hanbin, who seem distant and cold over the phone. They had found out he was not joining his family in Aspen for the holidays and to Yunhyeong, it was an indication that Junhoe had yet to recover from Jinhwan’s betrayal as he had insisted.

Junhoe had not told him one other thing, though and if Yunhyeong had known, he probably would not have allowed Junhoe to be alone for the holidays.

For while Yunhyeong and Hanbin was busy knocking on his door, Junhoe had been standing on the ledge of his balcony, contemplating to jump and end his life.

Junhoe sat back up, not realising that his reminisce had caused him to stay seated behind the driver’s wheel, his head resting against the steering wheel. He exhaled, turning to gaze out the window, at the log cabin house he was planning to end his life in.

It was hard. He had barely touched his cello or played any notes on it since Jinhwan walked out. If he even thought it, it caused him way too much pain. It was as if his heart had completely disintegrated and there was no way it could be reformed again. He had not shaved nor showered and the apartment was filled with discarded food containers that were more than a week’s old. He had torn and thrown all the pictures he had painstakingly framed during their first year together. Jinhwan’s gentle touches lingered on his body even under the covers and in his sleep, Jinhwan’s beautiful face haunted him like a spectre. It was daunting and seeing him with his new lover everyday was not helping him at all, especially on that day when Hanbin and Yunhyeong had arrived at his place.

He had entered the men’s room to relief himself when a familiar voice could be heard flitting out from one of the closed stall.

There was no mistaking Jinhwan’s soft voice pleading for pleasures. He had heard it enough times over the past two years they were together. Jinhwan deep in the throes of lovemaking was a splendid, fascinating creature to behold although now, it was obviously not him who was at the giving end. A hard grunt told Junhoe that he had walked in on a nightmare about to unfold and further shatter what was left of his already broken heart.

Where he found the strength to walk out of the restroom remained a mystery. He had not even seen Hanbin pass him. He only knew he had gotten home just in time to crumble onto the floor with a gut wrenching cry rumbling from his body, which ran the spectrum of abject despair and penultimate hurt.

All he wanted then, was to end it all.

He had packed his winter clothes and his cello. He had called his family just before he left the city, apologising for the fact that he had decided not to join them for the winter break this time, verily aware that it was the last time he would probably talk to them.

The cabin possessed the kind of silence which bespoke of homeliness and a sense of being lived-in. Yunhyeong had said that he had spent most of his childhood there during winters with his cousins and they used to run up and down the stairs, driving his grandmother crazy because she was afraid someone would trip and injure themselves. The full glass windows had let daylight in and there were pull-down screens for privacy. Junhoe chucked his bags and his bass case to the side, hands on his waist surveying the place.

It was as Yunhyeong had said it was; isolated.

Outside, the windows only displayed an expanse of rocky terrain lightly dusted with yesterday’s first snow interspersed with rows of pine trees that led into the thick, undeveloped of Gyeonggi-do’s lush forest. It was strangely calming and Junhoe paused before the living room window for long moments, absorbing what would probably be the last few hours of his life.

~~~~~

Daylight was fast dissipating and his steps were getting weary and heavier. He had definitely avoided the main roads, travelling only down the dirt paths or through the wheat fields to avoid detection. The high of actually escaping prison had only hit him when he had flopped face first into a mud-filled ditch as two police cars sped by the main road. They probably had just received the dispatcher’s call while patrolling and had been the units within the area. That was two hours’ since the last roll call. His escape had not been noticed and he probably had ran a few kilometres; far enough through the dense forest and then out into the rough, rugged terrains of the area, which would have exposed him so easily during the day.

That was when he had decided to take the lower route. It was his only option. He had to evade capture during the day and with winter descending soon, it was important that he made his escape and probably find someplace safe and warm to take shelter before the snowfall got worst. He knew no one would believe him, but his escape had been somewhat unplanned. He had overheard chatter during break about how the laundry bag comes in and out from the prison’s gates every two days via a truck. The place was heavily guarded, of course but security was lax, because the ones who worked the machines and packed the dirty clothes were all trustees or prisoners who were in transit to serving probation.The rest were a hard crew, but it was not a maximum security facility; some were in for arson, robbery and the rest for less violent crimes. Most of them could even get weekend visitations and he had put his name in for the list knowing it was also the only time he could have access to all the other rooms in the facility.

Truth was, he never had a family. He had spent most of his childhood in an orphanage, his youth in foster care and by eighteen, he had fallen into a life of petty crimes. His last foster had been a pair of sleek, con artists with a drug habit. They taught him tricks of the trade; pickpocketing, shoplifting and scams. From this, he quickly graduated to breaking into parked cars in suburban homes, stealing them and selling them at the makeshift illegal garages in the ghettos of Gangnam-do.

He got busted in a sting operation just a year ago. It would have been perfectly fine if he had been deemed a first time offender. He could have gotten about eight months to a year, but the judge had gone through his juvenile records as well and wanted to make an example of his misdemeanours. He was slapped with a five-year sentence and that had been a little too much for him to take, considering that he was more than ready to show his remorse and had even made plans to continue his studies if his sentence had been reduced.

After almost two years in incarceration, Kim Jiwon thought, he had had enough of prison life. The food sucks, the prisoners were way too rowdy and the wardens, ten times worse than the prisoners themselves.

With his face and body caked in mud, he had crawled through the ditch before running wildly into a scatter of pine trees which had been growing nicely at the end of the wheat field he had hidden in for almost half an hour, trying to listen for the sound of sirens, breathing in slime and wet soil. His prisoner’s garb of light blue looked like a complete mess. He finally came across a brook. The water running was definitely cold, but it felt refreshing on his face. He washed off what he could, but his wiry body was already shivering with the onset of dusk and the chill it would bring. From where he stood, he could already discern the heavy veil of snow curtained over the horizon.

It would definitely start snowing tonight and if he did not find shelter by then, they would probably find his frozen corpse by spring. He trudged on, his feet felt as if it was on fire and he realised that all the running he had done had caused his prison-issued rubber slip ons to wear off right through to his soles. He discarded them, taking extra care to hide them among the brambles between the trees. He glanced at the opposite side of the brook and saw in the far off distance at what could possibly be a house, which looked uninhabited. He trudged through the path of rotting leaves and twigs.

He had pretty much been left alone by most of the prisoners. He spoke well, bowed at everyone but of course, there were always those who would do anything to start the kind of trouble which would only invoke the welcome end of the wardens’ baton into the mid-section, so he had focused on only two things in prison; getting out of everyone’s way and working out.

He did splendid in the latter so he had no reason to court the former. One of the wardens had registered him for an inter-prison boxing tournament last year and he had won the gold in lightweight category. The prison was abuzz with cheer at his return with everyone congratulating him and most decided they had best stayed out of his way. Even the wardens treated him nicer than they would most prisoners but he remained as he had always been, listening quietly and never complaining. He should have regretted escaping but truth was, he missed being on the outside. He missed seeing the sun rise and set, the clouds spooling against the blue sky. Heck, as much as he was worried about the cold, he wanted to feel the first flurries when they descend. He only had yard time for about fifteen minutes a day and the view was a high red-bricked wall lined with barbed wire.

He glanced across the brook and sighted a structure from a distance.

A small house, a perfect little cabin, like the ones he had seen in the pictures of his school textbooks. Houses that were built in snowy foreign countries. He scanned the area. It was probably a few hundred yards, all told. He would be exposed for awhile, but if he was careful, there were some boulders and rocks where he could hide behind before he reached the house. Ten to fifteen minutes, that was all he would need and he hoped fervently that it was uninhabited.

As Jiwon began to pace his run towards the house, the first light snow began to descent from the skies to the ground like shimmery confetti celebrating the advancing winter. Jiwon turned his face up to feel the loose snowflakes across his face, feeling extremely optimistic as he continued his dash for shelter.


	2. A Timely Premiere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Junhoe contemplates the last moments of his life, Jiwon is about to discover that freedom is only subjective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‼️TW for suicide/self harm : A character attempts suicide in this chapter

He could not finish his meal. There were marinated steaks in the fridge and some mashed potatoes which looked fresh. He had fiddled with them as he spoke to Yunhyeong over the phone, holding tightly to the stem of the wineglass in his hand. Yunhyeong’s cellar was fully stocked and he had taken out the red which had come recommended to him on the screen outside the chiller itself. The connection was bad and Yunhyeong had told him that the snowfall was only going to get worse judging by the weather report today.

“Are you drunk already?” Yunhyeong asked him when Junhoe seemed too distracted to answer his questions. Junhoe bit his lips. He had been gazing at the small cylindrical bottle in his palm. It was an orange, transparent container with little pills inside them. The doctor had prescribed them to him just days before he left Seoul for Gyeongjji-do, because he had trouble sleeping.

“Uhm…no. It’s the connection.” Junhoe deflected smoothly. “Look, _hyung_ , I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” He added, shaking his head to clear away any uncertainties he might have had.

“Bad connection or not, call me first thing tomorrow morning. No one should be alone so near to Christmas.” Yunhyeong hadstated firmly and Junhoe had grunted a reply before ending the call.

He stood up, pacing to and fro in front of the glass window. He had left the sliding glass slightly open to let the cold air in so the folds of his bathrobe flew behind him as he did so, contemplating once more. He should not have called Yunhyeong at all. It just made him realise that his body would be found in the same place where Yunhyeong had had fond memories of his childhood and that made him feel guilty. He had on boxers and a tank top underneath the robe and despite the fire he had going on in the red-bricked fireplace, he shivered at the onslaught of the cold breeze whistling from the open door.

With heavy resignation, Junhoe finally settled himself on the couch facing the window wall and screwed open the bottle’s cap. He shook four white pills out, gazing at his trembling palm in trepidation. He cupped it to his mouth quickly, taking a swallow of the red wine he left by the coffee table at the side and counted to ten.He could feel his bludgeoned heart begin to stir and tears accumulating in his eyes, quelled the onset of emotions threatening to overrun him and began tapping out four more pills, staring at his palm with forced determination. He quickly swallowed this without thought and downed another gulp of the red wine. He remained seated, eyes shut and lips clamped tightly to control himself. When he opened them, his eyes found his trusty cello leaning against the armchair beside the couch.

His first love. He had always been musically gifted and his parents had given him all the freedom to pursue his love for music. By eight, he held his own recitals, playing piano, violin and even flute. His heart eventually settled on the cello because it was the instrument he felt most attuned and accomplished with. The way the fret feels against the pads of his fingers as he held it by the neck, the curved structure between his legs and that deep, resonant sound. Junhoe took four more pills and placed the container on the table with resounding conviction as he took another draught of wine.

Maybe, just maybe, he should play it one last time, he thought as he reached for it and brought it to rest between his legs.

He sat upright, eyes closed and he was back in the London winter so many years ago when he had his first professional recital. He had been lauded as a prodigy by Vienna’s finest maestros and so many were present today at the Royal Albert Hall to witness the discovery of the musical prodigy from South Korea. He was only eighteen then, nervous and hoping he would not fumble with his first piece, a rearrangement of Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years.

Jiwon was filled with disbelief when he realised that he had finally reached his destination. The snowfall had been heavier than expected, he could barely feel his feet by the time he staggered onto the porch. His heart dropped however, when he saw that the lights that were on. Maybe he could find a warm corner somewhere to rest because he was still gasping from all that intermittent running. His eyes ran wildly across the porch and he could already feel the preternatural senses inside his wracked body going off, as if something was about to happen. It was almost akin to panic; perhaps a police car might just suddenly turn in from the dark path down the gravelly driveway of the cabin or someone might just appear from the closed door on that porch and discover him there.

Then suddenly he heard it. At first, he thought it was the staccato sound of crickets. There was a quality about the sound which made it seem like it belonged to a symphony, but this was full-bodied; much more solid and somewhat refined. It was an instrument being played and it was so mellifluous, melodious and so mesmerising that the alarms in his body had naturally turned itself off and he felt himself drawn towards the sound. The patio encircled the cabin’s rectangular structure, acting as a balcony and platform for the view outside. Jiwon could barely feel the cold, as his feet began walking towards the soft orange glow emanating from the sliver of space from the opened glass door.

From under the same glow of light, he sighted a man sitting on the couch with a musical instrument between his legs. It was like a guitar, just bigger and on what seem to be a stand. His eyes were closed and for some reason tears were tracking down his cheeks profusely. His hands and body were swaying in rhythm to the melody he was drawing out from the strings with the stick he had in one of his hands. At first, Jiwon had thought he was wielding a wand and coaxing the soothing sounds which seem to emanate from the instrument with the mesmerising way he was moving. A closer look told Jiwon that the stick moving lengthwise was actually touching the strings, almost as if it was anchored to it, and the stranger’s other hand was gliding gracefully across the top of this guitar-like instrument but instead of plucking horizontally like most guitars, it was travelling in an up and down motion.

Jiwon stood transfixed by the door; forgetting the cold, the scratches on his arms and his aching feet. In that moment, he even forgot the hard life he had led and the fact that he was a fugitive on the run.

In that space of time, he knew exactly what freedom, absolute freedom felt like.

It was there, in the way the notes emanating from that instrument was flitting across the air and wrapping itself around his heart. It was there, in the carefree waythis beautiful creature were coaxing this otherworldly melody from between the strings, almost as if he was in some sort of a trance which was meant to spellbound anyone who was passing by, to forget everything and just, listen.

Jiwon recalled a fairy tale one of his many fosters had told him as a child.

_The Pied Piper of Hamelin_. The tale of the mysterious flutist who saved a vermin-infested village simply by playing a tune between his lips, had a lasting effect on him as a child. The ending had been truly dark and Jiwon remembered having nightmares from it about children who followed the piper into the darkness of the mountains, never to be seen again.

_But this._

This though, instead of darkness, was imbued with light and a brightness which placed hope in his heart; something he would never thought possible in all the twenty-five years of in his hard-knocked existence. He felt his heart soaring and the image of this man…no, this angel, coaxing this harmonious tune in a dreamlike dance sequence imprinted itself upon his memory. Jiwon knew then, that no matter where his footsteps took him thereafter, he would hold steadfast to this moment filled with overwhelming hopefulness.

For the first time in his adult life, Jiwon felt as if he could actually be free from the shackles of his past and be unafraid of the unpredictable future he was running into.

The music drew to a resounding crescendo and Jiwon shut his eyes, his mind grasping to cling on to that feeling desperately before it disappeared. When he opened his eyes, he realised that the man was staring right at him. He was still teary, but realising that he was no longer alone must have snapped him out of the state of melancholia he was seemingly immersed within. Jiwon realised belatedly that he had been discovered and even as panic began to seep slowly into his mind, Jiwon knew immediately that there was no one else in the cabin and that the only thing that stood between him and the elusive freedom he had been dreaming of, was the same man who had brought him out from the shadows and the cold.

Almost without thought, Jiwon entered the domain, quickly shutting the door behind him as the man put aside his instrument on the stand and hung the wand with which he had wielded his magic.

“Excuse me…I’m sorry.” The man was whispering now. He had a deep voice; almost as deep as the notes which had filtered from his instrument, but Jiwon was suddenly aware that it also sounded as if it was on the verge of fading. “What are you doing here?!” He had stood up, his hand had actually grabbed something on the table and the other poised mid-air, a finger pointing weakly at Jiwon in disbelief. If Jiwon had thought he was already so enchanting while he was playing his instrument with such intensity, he was was even more enamoured by how ethereal the man truly was in full height.

There was a fragility about him that was almost effeminate yet at the same time, he looked rather strapping and tall. His eyes were slightly sunken, probably from the lack of sleep yet there was still youth in the translucent brown orbs framed by the thick lashes and his furrowed brows. His nose was finely shaped; rather masculine and sharp. The cupid’s bow of his lips quivered slightly and as Jiwon closed the distance between them, Jiwon’s gaze found the mole just below the line of his lower lip. There was something familiar about his demeanour. He looked as if he was disconnected from reality and on the cusp of rapture, or some sort of revival.

“I won’t hurt you.” Jiwon speedily declared, placing his hands up, palms facing outwards. Jiwon sighted the almost empty wineglass on the table and conjectured that this was probably the reason why the man looked as if he had come unhinged. The man was most probably half drunk. He had backed off from Jiwon in disbelief, his eyes now alight with the kind of bleakness Jiwon had only seen on the prisoners who were serving life sentences or waiting for Death Row in the maximum security wing, adjacent to the building he had been incarcerated in for the past two years. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Jiwon repeated even slower, making sure that his voice had not gone above the register of a whisper. He was continuing to back away from Jiwon, not looking where he was going. He stumbled slightly and his attention diverted from Jiwon for the slightest second.

Jiwon saw this as an opportunity to gain the upper hand. With whatever strength he had left within him after that long, arduous jog through the cold, he lunged at the man who had provided him temporary respite from a world that had nothing but pain for him. Jiwon’s objective was never to hurt, just to assert enough force so the stranger would not use whatever he had in his hand as a weapon to use against him.

They both tumbled onto a carpeted floor just by the fireplace. He heard the man groan in pain and wondered if he had exerted too much force.

“Hey, hey…” Jiwon called out, struggling to stand up. Something rolled from the ball of the stranger’s fist and onto the carpet. It was a pill container. He had seen enough of it on the shelves of the prison’s heavily locked pharmacy. The sight of it caused Jiwon’s eyes to widen immediately with dawning realisation. He grabbed the container, reading the name stated there; Koo Junhoe. The date was pretty recent and definitely did not justify the number of pills left inside. It was almost empty. Jiwon had seen enough death in his life. His foster parents had been hardcore drug users, their addiction fuelled their life of crime. He had seen enough of their acquaintances die from overdosing on both pills and heroine. He knew now why the man's gait and reaction was familiar. He threw the container aside, yanking this pitiful man by the neck of his bathrobe almost angrily. “Hey. Come on…hey!” He shouted. The man mumbled incoherently, not moving an inch, despite the fact that Jiwon was pulling at his clothes.

Jiwon’s eyes scanned the room wildly. If he had just imbibed them, perhaps there was still time to save him, had been his first thought. He clasped his arms around the man’s chest, heaving him up to a stand. Once again, he forgot about the cold and his own aching body. The man’s breaths had gone reed thin, almost like a low whistle. With one swift move, Jiwon launched him upwards so that he was slung over one of Jiwon’s shoulder. Jiwon staggered slowly realising that his own energy was almost repleted after that sudden lunge. There was a closed door by the path beside the staircase. Jiwon turn the knob with his free hand and sighed with relief to find out it was exactly what he needed; a bathroom.

“Le-le-lemme go…” The man was whispering, his voice hitching. Jiwon slid him downwards, gazing at that face, now devoid of colour where it was tinged red awhile ago when he had been playing that magical score. Jiwon shook him by the shoulders so violently, his head was lashing front and back, his jaw tipping back so much that for a awhile, all Jiwon saw was his graceful neck and the five o’clock shadow on the underside of his chin. Jiwon recalled the name printed on the pill bottle.

“Hey, Junhoe! Junhoe!” Jiwon was practically shouting in that enclosed space. His eyes opened long enough to realise that someone was calling him, but those brown orbs that had been lucid were now muddy and seem to have lost all its gleam. “No, no, no, wake up! Stay awake, Junhoe.” Jiwon held onto him tightly. “NO! Junhoe…”

Suddenly he was back in that rundown apartment his foster parents owned, trying to wake up the man they had told him to call Taewook _hyung._ He owned a record store and Jiwon had even worked part-time for him once. Taewook would always drop by and maybe deal some drugs, paid his fosters and leave behind some CDs for Jiwon as a gift. That weekend, his foster parents had received a big shipment and was disseminating them among some of their loyal customers. Taewook had probably lost count of the pills he had consumed in his daze and he never woke up.

By the time Jiwon returned after a night of jacking cars, he found the only genuine friend he had probably made in this lifetime, stiff just beside the rack of CDs he had gifted to Jiwon, his gaunt face had turned blue and his vomit had caked by the side of his cheek, even while other attendees of this drug infested party, were still lying wasted, oblivious that one of their own had died within the vicinity. Jiwon had vowed to himself that he would never cave in to this lifestyle, no matter how desperate he became.

Junhoe wanted badly to succumb to sleep. In his mind, he was in the middle of this blizzard, with nothing on, but the clothes on his back and his bare feet. He already knew that he would not make his destination and he was willing to submit his whole being to the end, but someone was literally snapping him back into reality. He heard his name being called from a distance. At first, he thought it was Yunhyeong, probably following his gut feeling and had driven all four hours in the thick snow to save him, but he realised that this voice was not familiar at all, to him.

It was raspy, almost croaky and there was a sort of tired desperation in them which piqued his curiosity. With superhuman effort, Junhoe forced his eyes opened, but only saw a blurry silhouette that was somewhat comforting because it had a halo shining around it. He opened his mouth to speak to it, but he could only feel a gush of bile ascending from his gut. Someone had swiftly moved him and if he had been any lucid, Junhoe would probably give whoever it was, a piece of his mind about being manhandled this way, but apparently his stomach begun roaring quite forcefully and his mouth instinctively opened, pouring torrents of what felt like a mixture of bitter gunk and slime into the toilet bowl.

How long did this last?

He had not been conscious enough to know, but this definitely felt like a physical exodus of some sort, an emotional regurgitation. He had this faint, general idea that someone was holding him by the shoulders to keep him from pushing his whole head into the bowl and that this same someone was telling him to continue emptying whatever it was that he could. He wanted to reply, but every time he opened his mouth, he was incapable of speaking, just vomiting.

And when he was done he finally succumbed to a sleep that was so deep, he had not realised that this stranger; a runaway just like him, had unwittingly intruded his privacy and who was half dead himself, had somehow miraculously saved his life.

~~~~~

How long did he slip away into oblivion? It was hard to say exactly. He knew that when his eyes fluttered open, he was no longer in his cell. No more dry, concrete walls the colour of slate, bars and the bunk bed with its thin mattress. The ceiling seem endless, there was a quaint wooden clock hung above the fireplace and the air he was breathing in, though filtered, still felt fresh. He sat up, expecting the sledgehammer of a headache to come in shattering this dream and he would be back on his bed, staring at that old cobweb at the corner of the ceiling. The one still with the carcass spool of some poor insect hanging by a thread, because the spider never returned for its meal.

No headaches. His eyes first caught the guitar, no. Not guitar. It looked like one, just not played the same way and everything came rushing back to him like the shutter burst of a camera. His bare feet running through rocks and cold, the spellbinding sound coming from this guitar-like instrument, the ethereal creature playing it. He remember the moment his feet stepped over into the warm orange glow from the lights and fire, realising that by doing so, he had somehow thrown himself at the mercy of his own decisions.

Something was burring on the table. A phone. Not his. He glanced at the screen. Yunhyeong. Who is Yunhyeong? Another name surfaced in his mind. Junhoe, Koo Junhoe. The man who played the instrument had apparently attempted suicide. Jiwon looked around, realising that no one was there. He stood up, panic began to clamour once again but nothing happened. No SWAT team bursting through the door with guns pointing and commanding him to get down to the floor. No policemen pinning him to the ground and cuffing him.

_Nothing_.

The phone again. It was almost as if it was begging him to answer.

“Hello.” Jiwon did not know why but he felt compelled to.

“You’re not Junhoe.” This Yunhyeong guy was saying.

“I’m not. Are you his friend?” Jiwon asked, beginning to walk towards the stairs.

Ah, the stairs. He had lugged that big oaf of a man up these same stairs yesterday night after that bout of spewing Niagara Falls into the bathroom downstairs. Jiwon could still feel the ache in his thighs as he walked upstairs warily. The room he had placed Junhoe in was just as cosy as downstairs. A plush king-sized bed complete with the kind of sheets which had pink and white floral prints on them, like those English cottage bedrooms. Jiwon sighed with relief to find Junhoe still there, still asleep under the covers, snoring away. 

“Can you please let me talk to him?” Yunhyeong was almost pleading now and Jiwon wondered why Junhoe would ever want to kill himself when he had at least one person who was actually concerned for him in this life.

“He’s asleep.” Jiwon did not know why, but he felt the need to whisper, walk back out slowly out of the bedroom and into the corridor, pausing at the stairway. “Look, I don’t know how to say this but, he…he took quite a number of sleeping pills yesterday night.”

“Fuck.” Yunhyeong was saying now over the phone and in that exhale, Jiwon knew that Yunhyeong was blaming himself, it was apparent at how immediate his voice went low when he expressed it.

“He managed to vomit everything out, but right now, he’s still out like a light. I’m leaving soon…” Jiwon explained, realising that he wanted nothing more than to reassure this stranger over the phone and be on his way before he was discovered laying low here.

“No, you can’t.” Yunhyeong quickly interjected. Jiwon blinked, surprised by the way he was saying no so aggressively. “I mean, look I don’t know who you are and how you got to be there and right now, I really don’t care, but I need you to promise me you will be there with him.” Yunhyeong was adding on urgently.

“I…I’m not sure if I can…” Jiwon started again. If Yunhyeong knew he was an escaped fugitive on the run, would he be so adamant in asking him to stay? He wondered.

“You have to!” Yunhyeong half cried into the phone. Someone else’s voice could be heard over the phone; soft and soothing, telling Yunhyeong to calm down. Yunhyeong’s voice turned soft immediately, “Please, you have to. Please, there’s no one else.”

“I probably can wait until you are able to come down here…” Jiwon began to explain. Why was he doing this? He did not have to be nice. He was an escaped convict not a babysitter.

“I can’t come down. The radio…” Yunhyeong began. “They just announced that due to the blizzard and heavy snowfall over the next few days, the roads going in and out will be blocked for at least a month until winter passes. There will be blizzards for the next two weeks too. So you see…how it is? We can’t leave him all by himself. I don’t know who you are to him, but please Jiwon, please be there with him. I don’t think I can afford to lose him.” Yunhyeong was pleading now and Jiwon could hear him trying to hold back his tears, even though they were only communicating via the phone. 

“Look you don’t understand…” Jiwon really wanted nothing, but to be away from here. It was too dangerous to stay in one place right now. Especially if the authorities were still hunting for him. 

“I’ll pay you! If I have to!” Yunhyeong was shouting over the phone and Jiwon wished he would stop. He never had anyone rely on him for anything and it felt…like an alien emotion to him to be this needed.

“It’s not about money here, I just…I can’t stay long in one place. Circumstances is just not allowing me to.” Jiwon explained. 

“At least two weeks! That’s my family home. You stay there, eat and drink, use all the amenities, but please just keep an eye on him until he is okay and then you can leave! Please, Jiwon, I don’t know you, but I am appealing to your sense of empathy here. Junhoe…is precious to me, I can’t lose him. He’s special to me!” The impassioned plea made Jiwon sighed and he ended up sitting at the top of the stairs, raking his fingers through his hair, torn between hanging up the phone and walking out or staying to fulfil this somewhat crazy and impossible request. He felt sore everywhere on his body and his clothes were badly tattered, he was sure he would not even recognise himself if he looked into the mirror. 

“Fine.” Jiwon finally stated in a harsh whisper. “I’ll stay, but only for two weeks and that’s it. Your boy is not going to like this when he wakes up, though.” He added, glancing at the open door of the bedroom.

“My boy is going to have to live with it after what he tried to do. For fuck’s sake, I spent my childhood there and he dared to try and kill himself in it!” Yunhyeong was running his mouth off. The other voice on the line could be heard, calming him down again. “I’m sorry and please Jiwon, thank you so much. Please tell him to call me if he ever wakes up and Jiwon?” Yunhyeong suddenly softened.

“Yeah?” Jiwon muttered, wondering what else he might possibly ask for after all of this.

“Please look after him well. He can be quite stubborn, but that’s just how he is. Junhoe…he’s been through a lot the past few weeks and he’s been keeping it in so please. Find it in your heart to be nice to him.” Yunhyeong added and Jiwon sighed heavily, his other hand tracing the patterns on the staircase carpet distractedly.

“Yeah, I’ll try.” Jiwon intoned.

“Thank you so much. I owe you a big one. When the winter pass, please stay and let me at least say thank you to you too.” Yunhyeong said.

“That won’t be necessary.” Jiwon said and ended the call. I’ll be long gone by then, he added in his mind, as if to assure himself that he would be done with this guardian role he had been cornered to accept, for now.The roads were closed anyway and it was not like he could be anywhere else that would be as safe and warm as this, even if he has to share it with someone else, even if this someone else might prove to be stubborn and unfriendly. Considering that he had spent the past two years in prison, how bad could one person be?


	3. Variations In Etude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junhoe comes awake to Yunhyeong's recriminations on his attempted suicide and to the unwelcome presence of a stranger who claimed that he had been bestowed the task of looking after him. Jiwon finds himself in a quandary over Junhoe's condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‼️TW for suicide/self harm : A character attempts suicide in this chapter

“What?!” Junhoe had exclaimed in disbelief quite suddenly, after long moments of careful whispers to Yunhyeong on the phone. Jiwon could actually hear him from the hallway of the staircase, where he had been lurking, waiting for Junhoe to end the call. Jiwon was actually relieved that Junhoe had slept so soundly because during thatperiod of time that he was out cold, Jiwon had managed to shower, clean himself up and at the very least, look presentable. He had showered, changed into clothes which surprisingly fit him, then threw his tattered prison clothes into the fireplace, where the fire still crackled, watching them burn with silent relief. Jiwon even had time to observe Junhoe as he huddled into a foetal position under the thick blankets. Sometimes, he would let out a whimper, or even a groan in agony of a nightmare.

_What kind of darkness could plague anyone so talented and beautiful?_ Jiwon wondered.

Because, to Jiwon, from where he stood, it was obvious from the way Junhoe had looked and how he had played that instrument with such finesse, it seemed as if he had everything he needed in life. What would have spurred him to go through such lengths to end it?

“You have no right to be angry with me about this.” Yunhyeong had muttered pointedly to Junhoe from the other end of the line. “I’m just thankful that Jiwon was there otherwise…” Yunhyeong trailed off and Junhoe knew Yunhyeong well enough to know that he could have shouted and deride him if he had wanted to. The fact that Yunhyeong was saying all this in a calm, but solemn manner only served to make Junhoe feel all the more guilty. Junhoe sighed with remorse, biting his lower lips in embarrassment. “The facts are, you can’t be left to your own devices, the roads are blocked for at least two weeks and there is no one else around but Jiwon to look after you. You left me with no other alternative. At least until I can get to you.” Yunhyeong stated with finality. 

“I don’t…I don’t need to be looked after. I’m not a child.” Junhoe replied in a petulant whisper. Yunhyeong sighed from the other end and Junhoe could imagine Hanbin right beside him, probably rubbing Yunhyeong’s back to calm him.

“Maybe if you had not acted like one, I wouldn’t have to resort to such measures. I’m not going to accept any arguments from you about this anyway, so stop arguing with me about it. I called just to make sure you’re alright. You call me at eight after dinner tonight.” And with that Yunhyeong ended the call. Junhoe groaned loudly.

It was not just the migraine he was having now. His tongue felt like leather and his stomach was grumbling after all that he had expelled. He felt husked and utterly stinky. Sitting up, he swung his legs over from the edge of the bed and let them land on the floor to see if he had gained enough equilibrium to stand. He slowly got to his feet, fingers gripping the bed post tightly as he threw his phone onto the bed in frustration. 

He got as far as a step, before the muscles in his legs gave up on him and turned all rubbery. He began to tip forward and strong arms were suddenly there, steadying him by the waist. They were tanned and Junhoe could see a galore of very recent scratches along the limbs.

“Are you alright?” The voice was throaty, tinged with slight concern. Junhoe turned to face this so called guardian Yunhyeong had assigned to him after his attempt to end his life had failed miserably. He definitely looked as if he belonged in the woods behind the cabin rather than within the cabin itself. Rugged, scruffy and definitely wild, Junhoe had never seen anyone this rough looking.

“I’ll be fine.” Junhoe piqued in annoyance, pushing the man’s hands away only to result in him almost losing his balance once again.

“Between the hangover and the way you stink? Fine is not the word I’d use to describe you.” He countered in a voice as rough as his visage. Jiwon, Yunhyeong had said his name is Jiwon.

_How dare he?_

“I’m allowing you to stay at Yunhyeong's instructions, so don’t you try to get smart with me.” Junhoe had stated defiantly as Jiwon led him slowly towards the bathroom.

“Of course, your Highness. Whatever you say.” Jiwon whispered under his breath earning him a glare from that haggard, yet still somewhat beautifully structured face. Pretty boys like him would definitely make quick friends in prison, Jiwon thought sardonically. Not that a pretty face like him would ever find himself in a jail cell. He insisted on being alone in the bathroom, but of course, Jiwon would have none of it. There was a bathtub inside. Million ways to die and he looked as if he was not over the storm just yet. Those eyes brown and translucent as they are, were murky with the lack of clarity. “I’ll just stand here, if you don’t mind.” Jiwon stated firmly, planting himself at the doorway, arms folded in an equally stubborn stance.

“Fine, have it your way then.” Junhoe muttered, peeling off the robe and the rest of his clothes still permeating with the stink of his vomit from the night before, and Jiwon was afforded the sight of a back well-defined, yet so pale and vulnerable even in daylight. Jiwon turned around, not certain if this was what he wanted to see; the body of the privileged, so soft and smooth like a statue of marble. Junhoe began to piss, groaning slightly, because every movement only caused a sharp, throbbing pain into his head. “Fuck.” He exhaled. Jiwon glanced back at him, saw that he was leaning forward, arms planted to the wall, probably finding it hard to even stand straight. Jiwon walked in towards the tub and began to turn the taps filling it with warm water.

“Come on, your Majesty. Just get in the water and be done with cleaning yourself up.” Jiwon intoned, glancing at him. He still could not believe that he had escaped prison only to end up in another kind of cell; one where he had to babysit a brat. After the phone call with his host, he saw that the bedroom Junhoe was in had a connecting door to a smaller room, probably used as a guest room and he had managed to rest, but his unsettled heart kept waking up throughout the night just to check up on Junhoe, which was crazy, because the last time he had invested his emotions towards anybody's well being, was way before he was incarcerated.

“Why does my head hurt so fucking much?” Junhoe was groaning softly to himself as Jiwon tested the water with the tips of his fingers and decided it welcome for Junhoe's to use. 

“That’s what happens when you take a concoction of pills and alcohol. What did you expect? Angels heralding you a welcome song into heaven?” Jiwon remarked. A statement he immediately regretted, considering the heavy silence which greeted it from his sullen patient. “Let’s go.” Jiwon turned, tugging him at the elbow. Junhoe shook his arm free in annoyance. Jiwon was fettered in both amusement and admiration to the fact that he remained so petulant, even in the midst of his own beleaguered state. “For someone who wanted so badly to die, you are pretty feisty when it comes to your independence.” Jiwon mused.

“What is it to you then?” Junhoe countered, throwing his head back, as if to find some reprieve from this throbbing headache. Jiwon shrugged.

“Nothing. I was just told to make sure you don’t attempt it again by your good boyfriend.” Jiwon explained. It was unexpected, but the laugh Junhoe exhaled under his breath was a surprisingly pleasant sound to Jiwon’s ears. It was the laughter of a free man and Jiwon was absolutely envious of it.

“You think Yunhyeong is my boyfriend?” Junhoe was still laughing, but his brows remained furrowed with the pulsating thrum in his head. “Just for making me laugh, I’ll get in the tub. Just…if you will, please...help me into it.” Junhoe’s voice had gone a pitch lower at this request, as if he was embarrassed to have to ask for assistance. Jiwon walked towards him offering an arm, slowly propping Junhoe so he could lower his body into the tub.

The warm bath did Junhoe a lot of good. He was still weak, but at least he looked refreshed. Jiwon had excused himself as Junhoe sat on the bed, putting on his clothes.

Snowed in with an unknown stranger, Junhoe would have had more words of protest passed between him and Yunhyeong about this, if Yunhyeong had not cornered him about his attempted suicide in his childhood home.

Junhoe shook his head, trying to recall what really happened last night, but every thought in his head was muddled by the pills he had consumed and washed down with the bottle of red wine he had swigged them from. He vaguely remembered dunking his face into the toilet bowl and someone pulling his clothes form the back, probably to stop him from swimming in the muck of his own vomit.

“Are you ready?” Jiwon’s voice flitted from the doorway outside, as he about finished putting on his pants. Junhoe made a face. The man simply would not leave him alone.

“Yeah. You know, I can come downstairs on my own.” Junhoe hissed under his breath as Jiwon walked in.

“You could barely make it to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago.” Jiwon reminded him and that shut him up. Junhoe stood up and then Jiwon was there offering an arm which Junhoe pushed gently away, walking out the room on his own even though he knew his legs were still quite unsteady and weak. He heaved a sigh at the stairs, eyes gleaming at the thought that maybe if he just released the railing and tumbled forward…”I really do not want to be stuck in a cabin together with a corpse possessing a broken neck.” Jiwon commented dryly and Junhoe turned to glare at him again. A habit he seemed to have adopted since he had woken up to Yunhyeong’s concerned phone call. He winced slightly as his headache gripped him in full force. Junhoe sighed loudly, bringing up an arm and Jiwon smiled triumphantly as he allowed that arm to lean against his. They both began going down the steps carefully.

Junhoe settled heavily onto the couch, his eyes widened at the sight before him out of the window wall. There was only was only the stark vastness of blinding white.

“That snowstorm last night must have been a really bad one, huh?” He stated, squinting his eyes to try and discern the difference between sky and ground now because there only seem to be a uniform whiteness.

“Yeah,” Jiwon answered from the kitchen. “It was pretty gnarly last night.” He added. He came around awhile later, bearing a piping bowl of hangover soup. “Here, drink this.” He urged. Junhoe glanced warily, first at the bowl then at its bearer. He was wearing one of Yunhyeong’s loose sweater. Well, it was loose on Yunhyeong, but on Jiwon, who was buffer, it seemed to have filled out nicely, especially around the chest and the sleeves. Even his neck looked thicker although that collar was loose enough to give Junhoe a peek of a tattoo. Something resembling a plant? Or vines? Junhoe could not tell. “If you are done staring, maybe drink this up. Might help ease that splitting headache of yours.” Jiwon turned to gaze at him. This close, Junhoe had the privilege of finding out that his eyes were not as dark as he had perceived them to be at first glance. It was black as velvet night with the gleam of stars yet seemingly buried by the weight of the world.

“What is it?” Junhoe inquired curiously, eyeing the bowl now, dragging his gaze away from the fresh scratch he could see running across one scruffy cheek upon that raffish countenance before him.

“Hangover soup.” Jiwon answered, a bittersweet smile plastered across his thin lips as he stood up. Junhoe cupped the bowl, his unsteady hands causing the contents to spill a little. Jiwon chuckled, sitting back down. “Do I have to do everything for the patient?”

“I’m just…” Junhoe stuttered morosely, realising that he was still quite helpless.

“The remaining effects of those pills you scarfed down yesterday night. You'll feel better once you put some food into your body.” Jiwon intoned with conviction. That smile again, one that is seemingly carved from between tightened lips. “I have seen too many of my own die in the same manner.” He added in answer to Junhoe’s own unspoken questions. “Here.” He had taken the bowl in his hand and laid the rim against Junhoe’s lips. “Be careful, it’s a little hot.” Junhoe took careful sips as Jiwon guided the bowl carefully. After a few more sips, Junhoe settled back onto the couch, eyes shut tightly. “You should try to at least finish this.” Jiwon urged him.

“I will, presently. I think we need to add more log before the fire dies out.” Junhoe intoned. Jiwon nodded, replacing the bowl on the table and standing up, moving towards the fireplace, the very same area he had thrown himself at Junhoe just the night before, unaware that the man had been in the waning throes of an impending death. He chucked a scatter of logs that had been laid at the side, into the steadily crackling fire, watching the embers fly about in fascination. It was a thing of beauty, something he never thought he would be able to see while behind bars. He gazed as the firelights chased around the flames.

“If you finish your soup, I will see fit to fix a more substantial meal for you.” Jiwon intoned, turning back, only to find his patient gone. “Junhoe?” Jiwon stood up to full height, turning and eyeing the man suspiciously. For someone who claimed to be hapless, Jiwon was alarmed at the speed in which Junhoe had moved. He was now standing behind the kitchen counter, his back facing Jiwon. “Junhoe?” Jiwon realised that he had been careless and had not paid closer attention. Running swiftly, he walked into the kitchen just as Junhoe turned to face him, tears already forming in his eyes. He was glancing down and Jiwon’s gaze followed his, fixed upon a paring knife in one hand he had managed to grab in a rush, probably from the one of the drawers. “Junhoe…please, don’t do this.” Jiwon pleaded.

“It hurts.” Junhoe cried. Jiwon had never heard such despair in a man’s voice, not even in all his years in prison and the fact that Junhoe seem irrational was worrying.

“I know.” Jiwon quickly said, placing a hand in front, desperate to placate. “But doing this, would hurt the ones who love you.” He countered to argument. “Think of them, Junhoe, please.”

“He hurt me beyond reason. He betrayed me!” Junhoe stammered bitterly, his tears smarting his eyes and spilling like rivulets on each of his slightly gaunt cheeks.

“You don’t have to do this! You can get better, find ways to forget. Junhoe, please listen to me. You are still full of life, your hands when they were playing, they hold so much magic!” Jiwon exclaimed earnestly, slowly closing the distance between them.

“You…you heard me play before?” Junhoe questioned in genuine surprise, sniffling back tears as if taken aback by Jiwon's declaration.

“You were playing yesterday night, when I…I reached here.” Jiwon quickly stammered, “Play again if you will, please Junhoe. I will be your willing listener.” Jiwon had come close enough and before Junhoe could fathom what he had been planning, Jiwon's hand shot out, claiming grip on Junhoe’s hand. Junhoe drew his hand back and the knife clattered to the floor. A splatter of crimson dripping onto the kitchen floor, told Junhoe that blood had been drawn, but Junhoe felt no sting from the pointed end of the knife he had sheathed moments ago. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of Jiwon’s face grimacing in pain.

“Oh God, no!” Junhoe exclaimed as Jiwon retreated a step back, inspecting his injured hand calmly.

“It’s just a small cut.” Jiwon assured him as he turned to the sink to wash his blood stained hand.

“I’m sorry!” Junhoe, as if finally finding reason, quickly exclaimed, walking towards the sink to help.

“I’m fine.” Jiwon said once to assure him. “Just…help me wipe the floor, would you?” There was impatience in that voice and Junhoe felt keenly that he was the cause for it.

Junhoe found the first aid kit moments later as Jiwon washed the cut, his hands shaking as he unrolled bandages to join Jiwon, who had seated himself on the couch with a paper towel pressed against the still bleeding wound.

“You must think I’m stupid.” Junhoe whispered in remorse as he tended to Jiwon’s hand, his eyes still wet with tears. The cut had gone deeper than intended, but Junhoe had managed to control the bleeding after a slew of well placed gauze had been placed on it. “If you stay still, I’ll just apply some antiseptic cream to the scratch on your face and the ones on your arms as well.” Junhoe added softly as he tied the bandage carefully around the span of Jiwon’s injured hand.

“I’m fine.” Jiwon insisted, although he remained still as Junhoe held his jaw tenderly and ran the swab against that scratch, which had been bothering him since he saw it this morning.

“How did you come by these scratches? Coming here?” Junhoe asked. Jiwon remained silent, his eyes gazing keenly on that face. If last night he had been a vision, Koo Junhoe in the morning seemmore like a sun meant to melt all this winter. The jawline was sharpened like steel, yet there was softness in his smooth cheeks, a fine nose and lips. Jiwon had been in prison long enough to forsake memories of first kisses from past loves. He knew better than to dwell on baser needs or desires in a place where emotions were considered a weakness. The shape and pout of Junhoe’s lips rekindled those memories; of innocence lost, the promise warmth of skin and of tenderness which existed beyond walls and metal bars. “Was the path coming in already so arduous last night with the storm?” Junhoe was going on his own, dabbing the cream gently along Jiwon’s arm. Yet, Jiwon remembered how he lost all reason just moments ago in his bid to kill himself. 

“You have your phone with you?” Jiwon intoned, dismissing his questions.

“Yeah, it’s here.” Junhoe said distractedly, taking it out from the pockets of the pants he had put on after his bath. 

“Call Yunhyeong for me, will you?” Jiwon requested. Junhoe glanced up at Jiwon, looking troubled.

“Look, if it’s about what happened just now…” Junhoe explained hurriedly. Jiwon shook his head.

“No, it’s not about that. Yunhyeong said something about putting up the Christmas tree and the decorations. I just wanted to ask him where they were stored.” Jiwon quickly explained. Junhoe unlocked his phone and dialled, passing the phone to Jiwon. “Hey, uh, Yunhyeong? It’s Jiwon. Yeah, he’s up and about.” Jiwon glanced at Junhoe briefly and began to walk away, so he was out of Junhoe’s hearing. Junhoe decided not to dwell on what Jiwon might have discussed with Yunhyeong, but instead focused on putting away the medical kit. Jiwon returned moments later to pass Junhoe his phone and then walked back to the stairway. “Yunhyeong says it’s inside the the storage under the stairs.” Jiwon said distractedly.

“I’m thinking I should start on lunch.” Junhoe suggested as he placed the medical kit onto the counter. Jiwon had returned and before Junhoe could turn, something cold and hard had been placed around his wrist with a click. It was a handcuff. “What the fuck…” Jiwon had already locked the other end of the cuff on his own wrist so that they were inevitably, somewhat attached to each other. The irony was not lost on Jiwon. Yet, he and Yunhyeong had been unanimous that it had to be done to keep Junhoe safe from himself. _For now_.

“I’m sorry.” Jiwon explained tersely. “I had to tell Yunhyeong and assure him that you would be safe in my hands.” Junhoe’s face began to flush red in anger, shaking his cuffed hand violently.

“This is ridiculous, you can’t treat me like a prisoner. Where are the keys?” Junhoe gazed at Jiwon in outrage and utter disbelief. Jiwon shrugged in answer. “Jiwon, let me go now!”

“No.” Jiwon said gently, but firmly. His own cuffed hand with its bandage had barely moved, despite Junhoe’s active protests. Junhoe was silenced by Jiwon’s unrelenting stare. “Listen. I’ve had enough people die on me. I made a promise to Yunhyeong that I would take care of you and that is what I intend to do.”

“I promise I won’t do anything stupid!” Junhoe was saying, gazing into Jiwon’s eyes, as if it would have made any difference, but Jiwon remained silent.

“Come on, you’re gonna help me prepare lunch.” Jiwon said, standing up, dismissing any further discussion Junhoe might have about being released from this sudden and imposing control over his movements. Junhoe remained seated, petulantly glaring at Jiwon like a spoilt child denied a lollipop. “As big and heavy as you are, remember that I managed to carry you up the stairs over my shoulders. I’m that strong, so either get up, work with me in this, or be dragged around or carried upon my back. Those are the options given to you.” Jiwon stared down at him, that raffish countenance not revealing any emotions, but there was something in his gait and his voice, which made Junhoe become acutely aware that Jiwon was not joking.

“I don’t know where the hell Yunhyeong dug you from, but if this is going to make him happy, then I’ll just have to go with it.”Junhoe sighed standing up, starting to walk to the kitchen. Jiwon remained where he was so that Junhoe, caught unawares realised that he was being pulled back by the sum of a man, who seem to have been carved from an indomitable block of granite. “What?” Junhoe looked back. Jiwon pulled his cuffed hand quite suddenly causing Junhoe to stumble forward, so that his cheek fell against a supple, but formidable chest. Junhoe struggled to stand and then Jiwon caught him by his underarms, holding Junhoe in a firm grip. Junhoe, unprepared for this sudden loss of balance, panicked as his fingers grappled to find footing, hands instinctively settling onto those surprisingly wide shoulders. “I…I’m sorry..” Junhoe stammered.

“It’s fine. I was the one who pulled you.” Jiwon whispered, his hands found Junhoe’s waist, steadying him in that same steady grip. This sudden proximity caused Junhoe to blush profusely even though Jiwon’s gaze had not faltered from that winsome face. “Whether you like it or not, we have to accept that we are going to be stuck here for awhile so we should make the best of it. I promise when the snow melts and the paths are cleared, you will be rid of me and if you still think the world does not deserve you, you are free to do whatever you decide. Two weeks, that’s all I ask of you.” Jiwon was not exactly pleading, although Junhoe could discern he was not used to talking to anyone in that tone of voice and in such close quarters, as well. Junhoe regained enough of his senses to nod in agreement, although Jiwon’s warm breath on his face was causing a flurry of butterflies to flutter in the pit of his stomach.

“Fine. I agree.” Junhoe finally managed a response, although his eyes were averted from the fall of Jiwon’s intense gaze. “But did Yunhyeong really asked you to take out the Christmas decorations?” He inquired curiously, as he stood a step back to a more comfortable distance. Jiwon smiled cautiously and nodded.

“Yes he did, but I thought we both could do it after we’ve made lunch.” Jiwon stated more amicably. Junhoe nodded agreeably. The man could be truly charming if he wanted to be, he thought. “Is there anything in particular you want to eat?” He asked as they both walked together into the kitchen.

“The weather being this cold? I can only think of _ramyun_. What about you?” Junhoe asked.

“ _Bibimbap_. It’s been awhile since I had hot rice, fried egg and _kimchi_.” Jiwon admitted. Prison food was colourless and tasteless. Junhoe smiled. Such a brilliant smile it was that once again, Jiwon was left to wonder, who would have found reason enough to cause this much hurt to someone so beautiful and as talented as Junhoe obviously is. 

“I can make that for you.” Junhoe stated, “As an apology for hurting your hand?” He bantered. Jiwon was about to answer in agreement, but his eyes caught something gleaming by the door he had entered from just last night. He stopped quite suddenly in his tracks. “What’s wrong?” Junhoe asked, following his gaze.

“That’s not a guitar, isn’t it?” Jiwon asked, pointing to the instrument that had saved him from the certainty of a frozen death, almost in reverence. Junhoe laughed, shaking his head.

“No silly, that’s a cello. I’m a cellist. I play it for a living. In the South Korea Philharmonic Orchestra, to be exact. “ Junhoe informed him proudly.

“You must be a national treasure then?” Jiwon asked, still gazing at it in fascination.

“I’ve played it long enough to get paid for it.” Junhoe intoned humbly. “What do you do for a living, Jiwon?” He asked and Jiwon’s gaze settled on him, the sparkle in those normally dark eyes, were too bright to be ignored.

“Me? I’m a minder.” Jiwon stated cryptically.

“What? You mean like a guardian angel?” Junhoe inquired, brows furrowed quizzically trying to gauge that teasing smile on Jiwon’s lips.

“You could say that.” Jiwon chuckled, as they entered the kitchen, with their wrists side by side as if they were attached to each other, very much like conjoined twins.


	4. Winter's Sonata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the winter descend upon the world outside, both Jiwon and Junhoe were forced to accept that they were stuck together in the cabin. But what would a musical prodigy and a fugitive have in common?

_“He hurt me beyond reason. He betrayed me!”_

The words echoed in Jiwon’s mind as he slowly carried the plastic wrapped bundles of lights and ornaments under the stairway storage. Who would hurt him that much? He seemed so harmless and helpless, it was unimaginable that anyone would cause him so much pain, Jiwon thought to himself. Junhoe had a smile on his lips at the sight of the boxes arranged neatly inside the mini storeroom.

“Is he always…” Jiwon commented. They were both hunkered down there, as much room as the area permitted their lanky frames. The cuffs remain attached to their wrists, making every movement clumsy and seemingly contrived.

“This neat?” Junhoe completed and Jiwon nodded smiling. “Yes, all the time.” Junhoe added, rolling his eyes. “Yun’s a total OCD about his stuff. Everything in its place and a place for everything. I don’t even know how someone like Hanbin can live with him. Hanbin’s so chill and all, but Yunhyeong’s on nails almost all the time.” Junhoe was laughing.

“Hanbin?” Jiwon asked, scanning the labels on the boxes.

“You mean you haven’t met Hanbin? They’ve been married for almost five years now! And they have me to thank for it!” Junhoe beamed. They found the box marked Christmas, predictably just beside the box labeled Halloween. “How did you even meet Yunhyeong, by the way? You don’t look like any of his friends that I know.” Junhoe stated, gesturing for Jiwon to take the other end of the box, so they could heave it down from the shelf.

“I…I don’t know him that well.” Jiwon stuttered, carrying the box by the hand that was not cuffed. He realised the cuffs might have been a bad idea. It was hitting a little too close to home. He kept having memories of being arrested during the sting operation in the chop shop his fosters’ criminal connections had illegally ran in town. Also, being this close to such an ethereal creature was fast becoming uncomfortable and the fact that the man himself seem to be having trouble handling his own emotions was pretty disturbing.

“He’s just heartbroken and he doesn’t know how to handle it.” Yunhyeong had explained in despair. Jiwon could not understand any of it at all. According to Yunhyeong, Junhoe did have family but they were not close and he was pretty much left to fend for himself as he navigated his way around the world. Jiwon just wanted something that would keep Junhoe close by his side, so it would be easier to look after him. “Look in the box marked Halloween, I have a trick handcuff that’s pretty easy to unlock if you know how to.” Yunhyeong had suggested.

“Where does he normally set up the Christmas tree?” Jiwon asked, as they ambled out of the storage awkwardly with the box between them.

“I think near the fireplace. Yun’s family used to have a real tree inside! I bet he couldn’t stand having the mess of the pine needles on the floor which is why he has this fake one in storage.” Junhoe was revelling in mirth.

“Did you used to spend your Christmas with him instead of your own family?” Jiwon asked in disbelief. Junhoe nodded. “But what about your family?” Jiwon countered.

“I trained with Yunhyeong’s mother as a prodigy at an early age. Our families’ have been close for years, so it was only natural that I lived with them as I trained.” Junhoe said as they placed the box down. “You know, we could finish this faster if we were not tethered together like this?” He sighed, shaking their hands that were bound together by the cuff.

“Sorry, man. I just think we should stick together for now. “ Jiwon stated adamantly. “I’m sure we can find ways to make it more comfortable.” He added as he took out the tree. You go ahead and start on the ornaments.” Junhoe exhaled in resignation.

“Fine.” He muttered. They began to work in silence, moving with dexterity. Jiwon had figured out the base and was trying to fix the second layer of the tree. “Isn’t this exciting?! I remember doing this with Yun and his sister weeks before Christmas and we’d always hang our favourite toys and ornaments.” Jiwon smiled and shook his head in disbelief. “Oh come on, surely you’ve put up a Christmas tree or two in your lifetime?” Junhoe nudged him, as he began untangling the lights.

“Nope.” Jiwon admitted sheepishly. “This is quite…a tedious exercise.”

“Hold up! You mean to tell me…you’ve never celebrated Christmas? Not even once?” Junhoe had stopped whatever he was doing and holy fuck, if a man was supposed to be this attractive, Jiwon realised he would better off be locked in a jail cell, because Junhoe’s face was so close and exquisite, it was a wonder how anyone kept their hands off him.

“Not once. “ Jiwon surmised, lips tightened as he tore his gaze away to attach the second layer of the rather frilly tree to the base skirt.

“No presents? Egg nogs? Stockings?” Junhoe was on a roll. He just kept throwing questions to which Jiwon could only shook his head in answer. “Then we’ll need to do something!” He was exclaiming, as if there had been a vote and he won as the representative to make Christmas possible toa poor, pitiful soul like Jiwon.

“Do something?” Jiwon pondered.

“Yes!” Junhoe cried in wonder, standing up and then yanked himself right back down, because he forgot all about the cuffs. “We’ll do everything. We’ll give each other presents, fix ourselves a proper roast dinner with all the works and make egg nog from scratch. We’ll give you a Christmas you’ll never forget!” Jiwon gaze at him in wonderment. Was this the same guy who had walked into the kitchenand got a knife in an attempt to slit his wrist?

“Sure. Sounds fun.” Jiwon replied quickly, when he realised that Junhoe was waiting for a response. It was hard not to refuse, not when he sounded so excited to organise this and looking the way he did. Jiwon could only nod and in answer to his …whatever this is.

“Good. We have a week till Christmas, so we have enough time to find out what the other wants for Christmas.” Junhoe was saying now and Jiwon wanted to laugh, because somehow in his excitement, between getting up and sitting back down, Junhoe had somehow gotten the lights entangled around his own body and he was making it worst as he was trying to take it off.

“Maybe…” Jiwon intoned, as he got up slowly, leading Junhoe along with him by holding his hands, “We should just put you up, instead of the Christmas tree.” He surmised in amusement, slowly unravelling the lights, spinning Junhoe languidly around with their cuffed hands held aloft above their heads, almost as if they were dancing. With his free hand, Jiwon unravelled the lights from that lithe form, without breaking his gaze from that astonished face. Junhoe narrowed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, a gesture Jiwon found absolutely adorable. No man had the right to ever look that way, but Junhoe made it so endearing, Jiwon was sure his heart was beating fast enough to fall out from his chest.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Junhoe deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “Where did you spent your childhood, Jiwon?” It was the kind of question that would come up naturally when someone was making conversation, but for some reason, it made Jiwon put his guard up. He glanced apprehensively at Junhoe, but he seemed nonplussed, more focused on hanging the silvery cylindrical ornaments.

“A ghetto in Gwangju-do.” Jiwon answered, waiting to see if Junhoe would pause, hearing this, but the boy nary skipped a beat as he took another ornament; a blue and white striped, plastic candy cane.

“A ghetto?” Junhoe asked as if that word was foreign to him. He did pause, only to untangle the string of two ornament which had gotten intertwined together; one was a Rudolph figurine covered in shimmery, silver glitter.and the other a silvery streamer that glinted as it twisted and turned.

“A rough neighbourhood.” Jiwon explained, helping him to unravel it with deft fingers, the same way he had with the lights.

“You mean the kids would throw things at each other and beat each other up?” Junhoe asked innocently, as if such childish things still happen in the world.

“More like everyday someone dies from a drug overdose or someone gets stabbed, or raped, or beaten up for no reason.” Jiwon explained, without skipping a beat. Junhoe did pause this time, as if absorbing this. Something dark passed over his face as it began to fill with disbelief. “I was afraid to have a best friend because I didn’t want to grieve every other week, so it was always a neighbour or a neighbour’s son or daughter.” The fact that Jiwon’s voice had not changed tone despite this bleak summation, made Junhoe stop completely, his fingers running over the reindeer figurine reflectively.

“What about your parents, then? Were they…able to protect you?” Junhoe asked hesitantly, and this time Jiwon could sense he was keeping his tone checked and extremely wary. The smile had gone completely and now the gaze fixed on Jiwon was one filled a sense of hope and awe, as if Jiwon had just announced that he was an alien, which had arrived from another planet.

“Fosters. That’s how the state works. If you were orphaned, you could be fostered to different families. The government gives them a cheque and a book of coupons, for food and school and send a social worker down every other month to check up on us.” Jiwon continued with nonchalance even as Junhoe’s face began to fill with a kind of horror reserved for when you hear something that did not make sense or impossible.

“They were brave to raise you.” Junhoe added, as if hoping there was something positive to be found under such dreary circumstances.

“You are lucky enough if they were not the perpetrators of the crime. If they were abusive, you had to learn how to keep your head down and stay out of their way. Most of them were in it for the money and the food stamps. Worst, if they had their own kids to feed, because you only get what is left over from after.” Jiwon explained flashing a faint smile.

“But the social workers though…they would know, right?” Junhoe was suddenly in disbelief, wondering if Jiwon was exaggerating this a little.

“A social worker can have up to twenty cases at a time and in such an unsavoury part of town? It was a miracle if no one mugs you. Plus there are ways to hide bruises and countless threats to make sure the child says it was a bump they got playing soccer or accidentally walked into a door. That was how it was there.” Jiwon hung the tinsel, loving how it resembled a flame, turning all fiery and orange as it caught the firelight. “This is pretty.”

“I’m…sorry.” Junhoe muttered, for want of saying something. There was something in the way he was gazing at Jiwon now, almost as if unable to fathom that Jiwon survived such a childhood.

“Don’t be. You can’t apologise for the way fate works.” Jiwon quickly said and then chuckled as if he had a passing thought, “I guess you could say, our Christmas gift was being able to live through that and grow up. I went through four families in that neighbourhood alone, because I was not what you would call…an easy child?” Jiwon shared and Junhoe bit his lips, not even daring to ask what Jiwon had done for that to happen. Jiwon shook his head, patting his cuffed hand over Junhoe’s in reassurance. “Well, as you can see, I made it out alive so that’s good.” He added a smile to go along with the statement, even though Junhoe looked troubled.

They both stood up, wordlessly. Jiwon could sense Junhoe’s disquiet had everything to do with the realisation that he had lived a sheltered life all along. They began to work in a silence that was heavy and thoughtful, the both of them walking around the tree every once in a few minutes to ensure that the amount of ornaments were balanced. Once they were done stringing the lights, it was only right to see how everything would turn out. Junhoe passed the plug to Jiwon to do the honours. They had to walk to the electrical outlet together and the moment the lights came on, the room was bathed in a shimmer of wondrous lights which looked absolutely festive and magical.

Jiwon turned his face up to observe the tree closer and under the twinkling lights, Junhoe saw with clarity the minute scars on his rugged face; a scratch above his right brow, a nick which made his skin lighter somewhere near the temple, a more recent cut just above his left upper lip and a welt across his earlobe. All testament from his probably nightmarish past. Junhoe felt extremely bad and thought if anyone deserved to have a proper Christmas, it was this man who in all probability, had actually saved his life.

“We should start on dinner and maybe plan our Christmas menu while we are at it. Check to see if we have everything in the pantry.” Junhoe was saying. Jiwon nodded and they both walked together into the kitchen. Junhoe had opened the drawer and taken out a tablet and a stylus, turning it on. He suddenly passed this to Jiwon, who stared at him blankly. “Here, I’ll check the pantry and freezer, you take note of the list of things we will need.” Junhoe stated.

“I…” Jiwon began. Junhoe glanced at him, saw the blush creeping up Jiwon’s cheek as he stammered.

“You don’t know how to use the tablet and stylus?” Junhoe asked.

“I can’t…write.” Jiwon finally muttered. Junhoe’s eyes widened in surprise. “Or read.” Jiwon admitted, looking extremely nervous.

“You didn’t go to school at all?” Junhoe asked, surprised by this.

“I dropped out at grade four because I was not learning anything.” Jiwon exhaled, suddenly feeling as if he was under scrutiny. How was he supposed to explain that words simply seem to become animated and jump at him when he tried to focus on them? And that where he came from, the teachers were already having a hard time with the students who came from rough neighbourhoods and some, barely even made it to high school. “I did plan to continue but…it never panned out.” Jiwon stammered a little, realising he almost talked about prison life again.

“You know what?” Junhoe was already putting away the tablet back into the drawer. “That’s going to be my Christmas present to you.” He finally announced with a smile plastered across his lips.

“What?!” Jiwon quipped in puzzlement, trying to stop himself from feeling embarrassed. He had always been planning to learn in his duration in prison but he never got around it.

“I’m going to teach you how to read and write.” Junhoe stated, looking pleased at himself. Jiwon thought he looked much better now that he seemed to have something to focus on. “Let’s focus on dinner today though, my stomach is grumbling. Anymore cravings?” He asked, looking expectantly at Jiwon.

“ _Sundubu jjigae_. Piping hot, salty and spicy.” Jiwon grinned in anticipation. Junhoe nodded.

“Fine. That’s easy. You go heat up the instant rice and see if we have tofu and scallions in the fridge. I think Yunhyeong has a tub of radish kimchi his mum always prepare for winter. it is out of this world.” Junhoe boasted. Jiwon nodded in agreement and started walking away, but this time Junhoe pulled him so that he stumbled forward falling against that lengthy body that was surprisingly not as weak as he thought it was. They gazed at each other quietly, almost as if sizing up each other. Junhoe shook the hand that was cuff to him suggestively.

“Nice try.” Jiwon deadpanned, his grin going wider. Junhoe thought he suddenly looked a hundred times more appealing than before. “I’m not opening the cuffs. You come with me to take the stuff and then we’ll start prep work.” Jiwon insisted and Junhoe followed, heaving a sigh exaggeratedly, even though there was a gleam of playfulness in his gaze. Once again, just working in sync in silence became the order of the day and both seem satisfied that the other had not fussed over it. 

“Would you be averse to a little rice wine for dinner?” Junhoe suggested once they were done and began preparing the table, standing side by side. “I think Yunhyeong's family stocks this particular brand from a local winery that goes so well with _sundubu jjigae,_ but it’s helluva heavy and we would both have to carry it up and out from the cellar.” He looked at Jiwon expectantly.

“Cellar?” Jiwon asked. Junhoe nodded.

“It’s downstairs.” Junhoe had a grin on his face, probably at the prospect of having drinks. Jiwon narrowed his eyes skeptically.

“Are you sure you should be drinking after yesterday? I don’t know if that’s wise.” He countered in an almost teasing manner.

“Yunhyeong will tell you I’m a good drinker. Come on, just a cup each, I swear to you, it will be just the thing to go with this.” The excitement in Junhoe’s voice, amidst the soft warm glow of the lights and all the festive decorations they had put up, was palpable and there was something almost child-like in his countenance that Jiwon could help but be amused.

“Sure.” Jiwon agreed amicably, "But just a cup.” He added sternly. Junhoe nodded with enthusiasm.

“Come on! It’s just over here.” Junhoe began to pull Jiwon along using the cuff towards where the fireplace was. Jiwon had seen the place enough to be familiar with the lay of the place. The sliding doors through which he had entered, walked into two walls of bookcases on opposite ends, with the couch Junhoe had been sitting on playing the cello, right in the middle of it facing the view. They had brought down the storm shutters when the winds had began picking up while they were cooking, an indication that another blizzard was on its way to the area. The fireplace had been set in through the middle of one wall, cemented with smooth red bricks to prevent years of wear from the fire. Both Junhoe and Jiwon had decided to put up the Christmas tree at a comfortable distance between the fireplace and the couch. It was to the other bookcase that Junhoe had dragged Jiwon to. He moved his cello and the stand closer to the couch. “Stand back and watch this trick.” With the hand that was not cuffed, Junhoe slipped his fingers at the edge of the second shelf of the bookcase and the whole wall sprang forward smoothly. 

“Whoa. What the hell is this? A secret passage?” Jiwon exclaimed, looking very surprised.

“It’s the entrance to the wine cellar. “ Junhoe said and shook their cuffed hands, leading Jiwon in. There was a narrow passage as they walked in, even narrower than the storage under the staircase so they both had to huddle down, their heads almost touching. “There should be a light switch somewhere on your left, Jiwon.” Junhoe urged in the dimness of the passage. Jiwon’s fingers scrabbled over it and the lights came on, flooding the area with bright light. There were metal stairs at the end of the short passage, enough to take one person at a time. Junhoe led the way, going down sideways so he could accommodate their cuffed hands as they both descended together. It was surprisingly cool and spacious downstairs, an area which took up half of the house space. The walls were cemented with the same smooth red bricks as the ones which lined the fireplace upstairs.

“Okay this is absolutely impressive.” Jiwon gazed, open mouth at the rows of shelves after shelves stocked with bottles of wines and liquors that were taller than they are, arranged in narrow aisles.

“There.” Junhoe pointed to a few mid-sized earthen jars stacked at a corner. It did not look too big, but there was definitely a need for two people to carry it back up the stairs. “We found it. Yunhyeong's family only stocks the best.” He declared in satisfaction.

“One drink.” Jiwon reminded. “You only said, one drink.” Junhoe laughed when suddenly the lights went off. “Lights out.” The tone of Jiwon’s voice had changed quite suddenly. Jiwon suddenly pushed Junhoe against the wall, so hard, his back hit the concrete. “Fuck, what’s happening?!” There was alarm in his voice and it was close to panic. Junhoe groaned in pain.

“Ow, Jiwon. That was probably an outage, happens from time to time during a blizzard. The generator should kick off right about now.” Junhoe explained in a haggard whisper and the lights came on right at that moment. “Jiwon, are you okay? You’re pinning against me and my hand hurts.” Jiwon looked down at their cuffed hands, he had in panic, unknowingly twisted his hand against Junhoe’s.

“I…I’m sorry.” Jiwon said and quickly twist his hand back.

“What was that all about? You can’t stand the dark?” Junhoe softened, gazing closely at Jiwon’s face. Jiwon seem distracted even though this close to Junhoe, he looked even more dangerous than he had seem. Dangerous and yet lost, at the same time. Jiwon’s eyes which had been scouring the vicinity wildly, finally settled on Junhoe. Those dark orbs with the shimmer of galaxy in them seem to slowly calm itself as they found his countenance. It became acutely apparent to them just how close they were to each other. As a matter of fact, close was an understatement. Jiwon had, in his extreme panic, really pinned himself against Junhoe.

“I hate it.” Jiwon professed. His voice had gone soft, his breath was so close that Junhoe could feel the warmth of his exhale against his own lips as he spoke. “I hate being alone in the dark. My first foster made me sleep in the closet. My second could barely afford electricity so it was practically dark all day in their apartment.” And then prison, Jiwon thought to himself, although right now, prison was the farthest thing from his mind. When the lights went off, it felt as if his dream of freedom had prematurely ended and he was back in the dark confines of the life he had been entrenched in for the past two years. The endless routines, which predictably ended in the interminable darkness of concrete walls that seem to slowly cave in on him day by day, slowly taking his life little by little, was an absolute nightmare. He would rather die than be dragged back into that prison cell devoid of light and life.

“You are not alone.” Junhoe whispered, and how is it even possible for a voice to encapsulate all the desires he had pinned for himself; his freedom, his awareness that this was what he would miss if he was arrested once again? “I am here. The dark is not always frightening.” Junhoe was saying, keeping his gaze fixed upon Jiwon, his eyes full of comfort and the sort of affection that seem alien to Jiwon. “When I was eight, I could not decide which instrument I wanted to focus at. I was equally adept at the piano, the violin, the flute and the cello.” He added in the quiet. “The darkness helped me choose. I laid the four instruments before me, put on the blindfold and turned four times. And I chose.”

“And it led you to the cello?” Jiwon said with a whimsical smile. Junhoe shook his head.

“It led me to the piano.” Junhoe intoned, taking pleasure at the look of surprise in Jiwon’s eyes. “But I had always known I wanted to play the cello, so whether with or without the darkness, I already knew what I wanted.” He added, gazing steadily at Jiwon. “Do you know what you want, Jiwon?” He asked, his voice, so soft that for a moment, Jiwon wondered if he had ever spoke at all. Jiwon nodded slowly, not letting his gaze falter at this fascinating creature before him; beautiful in his own way, full of darkness himself. The kind of dark anyone crazy enough, would want to rescue him from.

Jiwon angled his head slightly to the side and laid his lips gently against Junhoe.

_Stillness_.

_Silence_.

_The passing of eternity._

Junhoe closed his eyes and parted his lips for an exhale, only to encounter the gentle sweetness of a kiss. He had never experienced a lucid moment, where he became utterly aware of a physical exchange the way this kiss had caught him. Even in his two years with Jinhwan, their lovemaking was oft-riddled with hurried and chaotic kisses, they barely stopped to take time and experience anything other than hurtling themselves towards a climactic end. Unlike this kiss.

This was more than a kiss. Junhoe could not recall a moment when a kiss had been this intimate and deep for him. Jiwon’s tongue settled slowly against his lower lip, applying pressure on that mole located in the underside of his lower lip, before scooping into the promised depths of his mouth. Junhoe moaned softly as he tilted his head, allowing Jiwon even more access, more space to explore and search with languid slowness. Junhoe was enthralled by the way Jiwon’s tongue skimmed the surface of his teeth, lined the roof of his mouth and tasted him. It felt weightless and transcendent.

Jiwon wondered how crazy he was right now to be kissing a complete stranger within a day of his life as a fugitive. Had he driven himself insane? Was he that starved for human contact that he was willing to initiate it to the first person he encountered?

Yet here he was, his lips buried into the luxurious softness of Junhoe’s lips, melded together because the man was definitely attractive but more than that, he was an enigma in his own way. The way his eyes lit as he spoke of darkness as if it was a friend, the fragility mirrored in his gaze as Jiwon stared into it up close and this, the taste of his mouth in Jiwon’s, thick with warmth which he enveloped slowly into his tongue. It had not bothered him for a moment that Junhoe had put up no resistance nor was he willing to release Junhoe, for that matter.

What was certain for Jiwon was that tasting Junhoe is not at all quite like he imagined it. He had expected to taste freedom and perhaps, it is there in all the sweetness of that mouth, so willing and giving. There was also the awakening of desire, the pounding of a heart he thought was incapable of yearning for anything, or anyone. It was a different sort of freedom, the kind that guaranteed nothing but would mean everything to him. It was both frightening and exciting.

For the first time in his life, Jiwon wanted something that he knew was impossible. Jiwon wanted the possibility of love.


End file.
